desolation (phan)

one

It's been months, and to Dan, it still feels like it happened yesterday.

His boyfriend of four years and best friend of seven years, Phil Lester, had officially been considered a missing person.

It was supposed to just be a family trip. Phil was supposed to come back. But someone or something decided that wouldn't happen.

So then came Dan's sleepless nights. He'd leave the door unlocked and the windows open just a crack. He had hope that his boyfriend would come back alive and well. He'd spend hours on the computer, writing and plotting down points on a cork-board, trying so desperately to find some kind of answer as to where he could be and who he could be with. But after months, the Lesters decided to hold a funeral, declaring there was no way he was coming back.

The funeral was the last time Dan saw most of his friends. Since that reunion, he isolated himself from everyone he knew, fearing that memories he buried would come to the surface if he spoke to any of Phil's friends. People had tried contacting him, tried inviting him to parties and events, but Dan was so very terrified of losing yet another person he cared for.

Dan hadn't packed up any of Phil's things. His room was still the same, and pictures of the two together were still hung on the walls on their house. They had just moved in together. Hell, the house was still new when Phil disappeared.

When Phil went missing, Dan being his partner in crime as an internet duo, he took all strength he had left to upload a video to their fans. The video would be the last one he'd make, with or without Phil. His fans were concerned, constantly asking if he'd ever upload again. Dan wouldn't give a specific answer, but mentally, he knew the response. He wouldn't. He simply couldn't- it didn't feel right.

In summary, Dan was lonely, sad, and anxious. He did the same thing every day. He'd wake up late, shower, eat, watch TV, eat again, then sleep. Maybe, if he was feeling motivated, he'd draw. His family called him constantly, suggesting he get help or talk to someone before Dan was gone too.

He had tried to, but Dan barely even spoke as it was. He considered the idea a few times, even researching nearby therapists or coping methods, but he failed to go through with any of them. He knew that talking about it would reopen wounds that Dan was trying so desperately to keep closed. He knew that talking about it wouldn't bring Phil back.

His family occasionally called him to say hi, but that was the only time he'd ever socialize. He'd waltz around in Phil's clothes, that being the closest he'd ever get to touching him.

However, one night, somebody dared to knock at his door. Dan huffed. He thought he'd made it clear that he didn't want to speak to anyone- ever. It was late, so Dan put on a shirt and climbed out of his bed. He looked around in the hallway, searching for something that he could use as a weapon if this visitor wasn't someone he knew.

He spotted a glass vase, tiptoeing to the front door. He tried to look through the peephole, but it was too dark to make out who it was. Either way, it was only one person outside. He held his breath and opened the door, raising the vase above his head, ready to swing and-

He dropped it. The glass shattered, pieces sliding across the floor and creating a loud noise. His jaw had dropped, eyes beginning to water. It felt like someone had slammed a hammer against his stomach. It felt like something had vacuumed the breath from his lungs. He wanted to throw up, to scream and yell, to cry and run away- but instead he stood in place, gaze locked on the person in front of him.

The person was in a black raincoat, eyes piercing into his. Dan's eyes flickered over every part of them, almost as if he were taking pictures of every feature. The crickets' chirps were drowned out by the sound of rain pouring down outside.

Dan opened his mouth, the name managing to escape his mouth after so many years of swallowing it down. After so many years of telling himself he'd never say it again. After so many years of telling himself he'd never see that person again.

"Phil?"